


A cat, a Dragon, and a Weasley

by Little_Aliens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Dragons, F/M, Fantasy, Magic, Magic-Users, Old Friends, thieves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-10-28 10:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10829277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Aliens/pseuds/Little_Aliens
Summary: Looking for a stolen dragon, Charles (Charlie) Weasley trudges through snow and duels in search of the person responsible for hiding the winged beast away. He thought the job would be an easy search and rescue but has gotten himself tangled in a fight between thieves and traitors.





	1. Chapter 1

It was his third time in the bar and he only now noticed the cat sleeping in an old hollowed out cuckoo clock. For the past two weeks Charles, Charlie to friends and family, Weasley had been all over the mountain town looking for clues or rumors about something that might be living in the surrounding area. Apparently a dragon hatchling had been stolen from one of the sanctuaries the next country over and gotten lost somewhere around this area. He'd volunteered to track it down, although he hadn't been expecting a snowstorm to beat him there. It'd be harder to get around in such weather, but hopefully whoever was hiding the dragon would slip up at some point and help him out. 

Just above the bar was an inn, where he had been staying the past thirteen nights, and listening for anything that might relate to what he was after. Only muggles lived in the village, save for a lone witch who lived on the outskirts, though she hadn't anything to offer him in the way of information. Charles figured he'd give the town a few more days before moving onto the next closest one, maybe the thief had already left. All he had going for him at the moment was the knowledge that the dragon was growing bigger and bigger by the day and would soon be impossible to keep out of sight. 

More than anything, he was waiting for that day. But for now he was curious about another, not so dangerous, animal who had eluded his sight the past couple days. 

"Has that cat always been there?" Charles asked of the bartender. The man in front of him was tall and lanky, perfect for reaching the highest shelves that seemed to hold the strongest liquor. 

"You mean Socks?" He mused whipping around to look for himself. 

"Socks?" The Weasley laughed shortly. 

"The owner's daughter named her," he explained moving to scratch the cat's head carefully.  

She had orange and black fur dominantly across her body, while her fronts paws toes and a third of her back legs were white. Which gave off the appearance that the animal could perhaps be wearing socks, at least the name made sense. 

"Well, it fits," Charles sighed before taking a swig of his drink. 

"Yeah, she's been comin' round every few days for the past couple months or so. Started hanging out in here and the owner didn't mind so we made a shelf for her," he muttered before leaving the cat alone. She opened her green eyes to look at him for a moment before her gaze focused on Charles as if she was plotting her next move carefully. 

"Do you know who she belongs to?" 

"Nah, just showed up out of the blue," the bartender said. He was then called out to by another man at the other end of the counter and nodded towards Charles before walking away. 

"You haven't seen a dragon have you, Socks?" He joked as the cat watched him. Her ears perked up at the sound of her name and she rose slowly to her feet, seeming to stretch for a moment before jumping onto the bar. 

Charles wasn't quite used to being around muggles all the time, having to check twice before he pulled out his wand or use even the most basic spells was beginning to annoy him. The sooner he found the dragon and returned the better, he'd be back in Romania and not have to worry about erasing anyone's memory. 

Socks didn't make any noise, merely looked at him curiously, cocking her head to the side before walking away towards the other side of the bar. She looked different from other cats he had seen, with no tail and larger hind legs, it made him wonder what breed she was. With her gone Charles was left to stare down at his drink bored, sometimes, though rarely, he was able to get information from bars. So far he hadn't been very lucky, but it didn't deter him from trudging through the snow in the mountains every couple days. 

A small noise next to him made the red headed man look over to see that Socks had jumped onto the stool just to the left of him and was looking at him again. After about ten seconds of them staring at each other she curled up on the seat and closed her eyes. 

"She seems to like you already," the bartender joked as he passed. 

"Looks that way," Charles mumbled around his drink. 

The next morning he set off early into the mountainside, hoping to cover the majority of the caves to the west in case the thief had left evidence of passing through. Halfway down the trail Socks popped up in front of him, her paws barely making a sound in the snow, she stared at him just as she had the night before. Except this time a soft meow escaped her mouth as he walked by, his boots crunching in the snow as he made sure not to slip. 

"You're a nosy one," he chuckled. 

The animal reminded him of being back in school, the way professor Mcgonagall would change forms in order to get applause from the younger students. Or the way her unwavering stare followed them around the room when they were supposed to be working individually. Somehow the memory made him a little suspicious of the animal behind him, but he shrugged it off. Socks was just the bar cat that was curious about a new person. 

It was rare that Charles took a stroll through the woods or in the mountainside by himself, or the weight of dragons looming over him. The air was cool and his breath hung in the air in a cloud before vanishing into the white forest around him. With only the sound of his steps in the snow and shallow breathing to keep him company the red headed man would check back every five minutes or so to see if Socks was still following. He was alert and waiting for something to happen, hoping for it anyway, with his hand itching to make a grab for his wand in case there was an ambush of some sort. 

Nothing of such excitement happened, part of the way through his trek the bar cat abandoned him in pursuit of other entertainment. He didn't blame her, following a random man into the snowy wilderness wouldn't be very fun for anybody, it wasn't even alluring to him. Perhaps the only plus ot being completely alone was that he could freely use spells and charms to aid him in any way he saw fit. Which wasn't much, any tracks, or evidence, had been buried long before he came into town, or had been covered. 

All that covered the trails were animal tracks, and now his own footprints. Although he was sure that the other sets belonged to Socks, it looked like she got out quite often if her prints were anything to go by. If there was someone hiding in the mountains around him, they were doing a grand job of it. 

So he waited, and watched the bar cat follow people around and jump onto different chairs and tables while most customers paid her no mind. Though she always seemed to vanish around the same time every night, perhaps one of the villagers had adopted her. 

Then on his last day and his final walk into the mountainside Charles finally saw someone out in the snow. The figure stood several yards in front of him, had their back to him as he crept as quietly as possible through the snow. A cloak covered and disguised any physical traits he might have hoped to recognize later, but all he needed was to talk to them. 

His fingers found his wand immediately when he made a particularly loud step into some fresh snow and twigs that had been buried underneath. In the next moment there was a pop and the figure disapparated away, leaving nothing but the silent forest around him. 

Swearing under his breath Charles moved to the spot where the person had been and looked for footprints, hoping that they'd left a trail. They hadn't, the only ones left were Socks' small paw prints that seemed to go in every direction. If he'd thrown a jinx right away instead of waiting he might have been able to question said person. Though the fact that the witch or wizard had disappeared so quickly had to be a sign that they were the ones hiding the dragon, to be so elusive meant secrets. 

It also meant that he would stay in the small town for now, and do his best to figure out how to find the person again. 

When he entered the bar again after spending the rest of the day on the mountainside Charles was tired. Usually the dragons would wear him out and he'd he sporting some new burn or injury, but all that ailed him at the moment was frustration. Quite frankly, he'd rather have dragon fire over spending hours in the snow. 

"Still leaving tomorrow?" The bartender, who had finally introduced himself as Frank, asked. 

The Weasley sighed, swirling his drink in the glass aimlessly before his gaze was caught once again by the bar cat. Socks was back in her old cuckoo clock scoping the area in front of her out as if the room was full of prey that she wanted. 

"No," he hummed bringing the cup to his lips. "My business has been extended for a little while," he explained. 

"We'll extend your stay then," Frank smiled at him. 

"Thanks," Charles murmured past his drink. 

In the morning he was awakened by thunderous steps on the stairs that led to the inn above the bar, and loud voices that were soon hushed by someone in the group. Three maybe four people were in the group, as far as he could tell from all the different voices. Charles listened to them whispering half heartedly, the walls of the inn were rather thin and allowed the person on the other side to listen whether or not they wanted to. 

Most of it was about the snow and how it made it troublesome to travel, even by apparition. The comment caught the redhead off guard and all at once had him alert and listening for anything that might concern what he was looking for. Again the conversation rattled on about awful conditions, but he was able to catch a couple sentences amidst all the complaining and groaning. 

"She has to be in one of the caves," was what had him curious, and then. 

"It's getting too big to hide now." 

That was all Charles needed from them and as he sat up in his bed, causing it to creak under his weight their hushed voices seized altogether. One of them must have cast muffliato charm to keep out any unwanted listeners, good thing he'd already heard what he needed to. 

They were in the bar when he came down for breakfast and he vaguely recognized one of them as a dragon thief from years ago. His name was Jason Clipp, and the Ministry had caught him trying to sell illegal dragons in an underground market, he'd barely gotten a trial before they sent him away. Which only solidified his earlier thoughts. Someone from their group must have taken the dragon for herself and betrayed the lot of them, they had to be tracking her down for revenge. 

"What can I get you?" Frank questioned them with a friendly smile. 

"You wouldn't happen to remember a woman passing through would you?" Clipp asked while his companions glanced around the bar. 

"Lot's of people pass through, you're going to have to be more specific than that," the bartender sighed. 

"Of course," Clipp smiled, but seemed irritated. "She's in her mid twenties, brown hair, green eyes, wearing a traveling cloak," he started to describe the mystery woman. "It probably looked strange to you." 

It wasn't uncommon to wear robes or cloaks when those with magic traveled, although for muggles who traveled long distances by car, the appearance always seemed weird and out of place. All Charles was thinking about was the figure in the forest who had been wearing a long cloak a few yards in front of him. 

"Oh, yeah, that was weird," Frank exclaimed recalling the person. "Pretty girl, kind of short?" Clipp and his companions nodded. As if the knowledge of the woman being small compared to the tall bartender was any help. "She passed through more than two months ago, haven't seen her since." 

Clipp's smile faltered at his words, perhaps he'd been hoping that she would be staying somewhere in town still and their job would be easy. 

"Are you sure?" He persisted. 

"Yes, she came in for one drink and asked where the next closest town was. She was gone the following morning," he said suspiciously. "Is she in some sort of trouble?" 

"Not at all," one of the others spoke hesitantly. 

"She's our friend and we're just a little worried about her," Clipp was quick to cover him up. Frank eyed them skeptically all the same before moving over towards Charles' table and asking if he wanted some breakfast. 

Whoever was hiding in the mountains had to be the girl they were looking for, which meant that Charles had spotted the very person who was hiding the dragon and done nothing to stop her. Again he berated himself for letting her get away without saying so much as a greeting, or casting a single spell against her. What should he expect from her if they met again? If she'd crossed the dragon thieves did that mean she was going to sell the dragon herself? Why hadn't she done so already? 

Whatever happened had nothing to do with him, the best choice of action would be to stun her and get the dragon back. He could get the Ministry involved and threaten Azkaban if he had to, but after spending two months looking for the beast Charles was at the end of his rope. If this witch was still hiding somewhere outside of town, in a cave or something, he was going to find her.


	2. Chapter 2

In the next few days Charles saw Clipp and his cronies about as much as he saw Socks, she didn't seem to fond of the new guests at the inn and only appeared after they had left every afternoon. Morning was spent in the bar talking about where the girl may have gone or what might have happened to the package, which was codename for dragon probably. After a late lunch they would go out into the surrounding snowy forest and search for their lost companion, the red head had followed them once. 

He had taken to going out in the mornings while they were still sleeping or making plans for the next town, but still there was nothing for him to find. The girl that was hiding the dragon knew what she was doing, perhaps had done it before with another dragon that they had never found again. Charles had to give her credit for being such a good concealer, even some of his magical objects couldn't pick up anything. 

The only consistency between the week before and now was that Socks was still following him around and popping up all over the forest. Watching him from afar and meowing every so often when he passed her by, the cat had probably, at one point, seen the girl in the forest. Too bad he wasn't very good at speaking with animals, not that she would show him in the right direction anyway, cats were always so stubborn. 

It seemed that Clipp and his gang were just about to leave when good news changed their minds, in the form of some small information. Charles had taken to using some extendable ears placed near the table they always went to in order to listen to them without being to obvious and giving himself away. It hadn't been much help thus far because they believed the witch had already moved on from the town. Only he had seen her in the forest and was sure she was still hiding somewhere close. 

News came in the form of a little girl walking into the bar with Socks in her arms, the cat looked bored and was letting her body hang blandly in the child's arms. She was likely used to being held in such a way and had surrendered herself to it long ago. Frank had just switched out with his boss, the girl's father about five minutes before and peered down at her with a curious look on her face. 

"Your father went upstairs, do you want me to call him, Maggie?" He asked with a warm smile. 

"No, I just needed to get some water for Socks, her bowl went missing and I don't know where it is," the little girl explained. 

"Oh, that's not good," he sighed petting the cat's head. "I'll go get her something." 

"Thanks Frank!" She cheered plopping down in a chair and starting to talk nonsense to the animal.  

Maggie had to be no more than nine or ten years old and seemed to be elated with the cat's presence, though the feline looked less than enthused to have been captured. It's blank stare moved all around the pub to look at everyone inside, only when it landed on Clipp and his gang did she seem to stiffen. All of a sudden she was struggling to get out of the girl's grasp and, after she succeeded, sprinted out the door with the child following behind. 

"Socks, where are you going?" Maggie called after the animal. 

A few moments later Frank returned to see that the child was no longer there, though someone at the bar explained what had happened with a chuckle. At first the group didn't seem to take interest in what had happened at all and continued to eat their food and chat away. It was only afterwards that one of them stayed behind to grab something from upstairs that Charles heard any difference in his tone of voice. He called Frank over to his table quickly before speaking in a somewhat hushed voice. 

"Who does that cat belong to?" He seemed to think it was an important question. 

"Socks is a stray that the owner's daughter named," Frank said collecting some of their empty plates. 

"Has she been here long?" He pushed further. 

"Two maybe three months at the most, Maggie has become quite attached to her as you saw," the bartender chuckled. 

"Yeah," the man offered a forced smile. "Do you know who she stays with in town?" 

"I don't think she stays with anyone, just kind of pops up every now and then, sometimes in the bar," he started walking away to deposit their dirty plates. 

"It's her cat," the man growled before rushing out of the bar. 

If Socks belonged to the lady in the forest that meant that Charles had been staring at the cat all this time and thinking nothing of it when he could have been trying to follow the animal. Although if the cat did indeed belong to the smuggler it was probably smart enough not to lead him anywhere near where her master was hiding. He wasn't going to injure the cat in order to get it's master to appear, but the same couldn’t be said about Clipp and the rest of them. 

Which meant that the cat was in danger. 

The next day Socks was nowhere to be seen, not in the bar or walking through town, not with Maggie or in the forest during his morning search. Perhaps the cat had recognized the men as well, and at this very moment Socks and her master were figuring out which town they could move to next, or how hard it would be for them to move a baby dragon. In similar regard, the man that had spoken to Frank aloe the day before was also not in attendance that afternoon while the rest of them hashed out new ideas. 

It was only when Charles was walking through town that evening when he saw the other man talking to Maggie, the bar owner's girl. They were probably talking about the cat, although the red head was sure the little girl would have no idea where the cat was during the day, as no one in town had that information. 

"Socks likes to roam," Charles heard as he pretending to be reading a sign in a shops window. 

"Do you know if she stays in the forest at night? I'll give you this, if you tell me," he said holding up a licorice wand. The red head was pretty sure Maggie had no idea what type of candy he was holding up, but seemed to want it all the same. 

"She's in the forest a lot, she likes to play in the snow, but dad doesn't let me follow her," she exclaimed reaching for the strange food. 

"What part of the forest?" 

"Where the tree's are really tall," she said.  

He finally handed the wand to her and moved immediately in the direction he believed to be the tall tree area. Charles knew exactly where Maggie was talking about and cursed himself for not looking more closely into the area, it would be the perfect place to hide a dragon. With the tall trees it would be hard to spot a baby, even if it was stretching it's wings. 

During the day it would be too obvious to follow the man, but at night he could go searching for himself, although the witch was certain to have already put up protective barriers and the like to ward off intruders. Perhaps the best way to find her was to get Socks and try to strike a bargain. Charles still had no idea if she was hoping to sell the dragon for herself, or keep it to breed, or if she was protecting it. But either way, Socks was his best bet into talking with the girl, and perhaps taking the dragon from her hands provided he look the other way and forget her face. He didn't like having to do that, but sometimes it was the best option available. 

Except that when he found the cat again the other man had gotten to her first and was trying to capture her with spells. It was early in the morning, before the other men in his group usually roused awake, that he had gone off into the forest, finally finding his way to the tall trees, where Socks was running about. She was doing her best to dodge spells, especially when a exceptionally nasty one caught her front paw and sliced it causing her to hiss at him darkly. An incarcerous spell followed and tied her up quickly making the wizard shout in triumph before he ran over to her gleefully. 

"Call for your master," he demanded on the feline. "I know she's close by, you were always there when she wasn't, passing on information," he seethed. 

At that point Charles had seen enough and cast a series of his own spells to catch the man while he was off guard. First he lost his wand, and then was sent crashing down to the floor, petrified. It was a lot easier to ambush someone when they thought they were alone talking to a cat. When the wizard awoke he'd only be aware of passing out as he had never seen the red head hiding behind him in the forest. 

Next was to untie the cat with a simple relashio spell, the rope binding her slithered off like a snake before disappearing into the snow around them. Socks' front left paw was still bleeding and as Charles reached for the cat she attempted to run away from him, limping and tumbling only a few steps before stopping. 

"I just want to help," he muttered with a sigh. "You can tell your master that I will be taking the dragon back to it's birthplace, where it will be taken care of, not taken advantage of," he explained. "I'm willing to let her go if she gives up the hatchling, otherwise the ministry will get involved, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't want that." 

Socks watched him warily, her paw still dripping bits of crimson on the ground as she tried to decide whether or not she could trust the red head in front of her. Turning slightly to look at the expanse of snow just behind them the cat sat down slow, seeming to sink deeper into the ground beneath her. Charles moved forward carefully, he didn't want to scare her but was sure if he let the feline go without helping it her master wouldn't want to cooperate with him at all. 

"I'm just going to stop the bleeding and tie it off," he explained as if he was talking to someone else. A simple healing charm halted the bleeding and soon Charles was ripping a small piece of cloth from his shirt to act as a bandage for the small animal. Once he was done he tried to scratch the cat on the head like he had done many times before in the bar, but she shrank away from his touch. "Be careful getting back." Was all he offered. 

More than likely the witch she belonged to was listening in, or watching from a distance, wondering if he could be trusted or if she should pack up and move on. He only hoped that she trusted him enough now to at least talk to him, or send word in another way, perhaps use Socks as a way of correspondence without drawing too much attention. All the red head had to worry about now was if Clipp and his men would wonder what had happened to their guy, and if the man himself would be suspicious of other involvement. For now Charles could lay low and perhaps the witch would get the message and be discreet as well.


End file.
